Ghost Lover
by Rabid Chibi Squirrels Inc
Summary: 50 years have passed, and the only residents left in Whipstaff are two brothers. But when a living girl comes to stay with them, one of them develops a sinister plot. Contains an OC
1. Chapter 1

_**Kitsune: I thought of this while watching Casper. I don't exactly know why, so please don't ask. Just review, please.**_

**_Plus, I got part of the idea from watching _In Search Of _on the Sci-Fi channel, which gave me the idea for Ghost Lovers. So, I don't take any credit for that._**

_**Plus, again, I don't own Casper or its characters.**_

_**A warning to those who are devoted Casper fans . . . this is nitty gritty, nasty stuff; rape, torture, etc. So flame me all you want, I don't give a pig's ass! Ha! Naw, I'm kidding, but if you don't like it, don't read it, okay? I didn't make this just to have people criticize me and tell me how 'Oh, that's not a very "Casper-Friendly" theme!' So, get off, me, this is rated M.**_

-

**Ghost Lover**

**Summary: Nearly 50 years have passed at Whipstaff. The only remaining residents are two ghost brothers. But when a lonely living girl takes up residence there, she finds herself torn in two; while one brother seems to show concern for her, the other finds her a bit more appealing than normal. Rated M for rape, torture, and adult content, sorta.**

-

Fifty years had gone by. Oh, they flew by so fast. Fifty years since the Harvey's had taken up residence in the old, haunted Whipstaff Manor; fifty years since Casper found friendship and love in the human girl, Kat; since Carrigan died and passed over; since James Harvey had found his deceased wife, Amelia, and fifty years since she'd crossed over.

Fifty years. And in that span of time, things slowly began to go downhill.

Young Casper, having found friendship and the joy of being alive again, passed over around a year after the grand Halloween party. Mr. Harvey passed on after Kat graduated college and got married to a young inventor, and moved out of the country.

And then Fatso passed on to the afterlife . . .

Stinkie sighed as he glanced at the picture of his brother and as the memories assaulted him. He looked at the empty bed. He sighed. "Stretch, it jus' ain't a party no more wit'out Fatso."

"You been saying dat for nearly twenty years now, Stinkie," Stretch said, glancing at a newspaper. "Wishin' he was back ain't gonna bring 'im back. Ya don't want 'im ta be stuck here again, do ya?"

"Maybe," the other ghost said. He floated onto his bed, his ghostly tail falling limply over the side, just as his legs would if he were alive again. A thought suddenly hit him. "Hey, Stretch?"

"What now?"

"Have ya ever wondered jus' _how_ we died?"

Stretch's head popped up, slightly, as he glanced in his brother's direction. "Of course I have,"

"Yeah, but, have ya ever found out?"

"Look, Stinkie, I don't know how or why we died, we jus' did."

Stinkie glanced at his lap, depressed. "Maybe we were too roudy in life . . . Too mean . . ."

Stretch threw the paper at Stinkie's head, said-paper going right through the other ghost's semi-transparent cerebrum. This got its desired effect, getting the other ghost's attention while riling him up.

"Hey! What'd'ya do dat for?"

"You think too much nowadays, Stinkie," Stretch said, floating to the closed door. "Dat's what caused Casper ta move on." And with that, he floated through the door, heading towards who-knows-where.

Stinkie continued to look at the spot where his brother had been. He sighed. Now what would he do?

-

A young girl, around 16 or 17, ran down the gravel drive. Her breathing was heavy, and she constantly looked behind her. There were footsteps, rushing towards her. They were getting closer!

The sky grew darker as she neared a large manor that overlooked the ocean. Rain began to pelt her, staining her blueish-purple hooded sweatjacket and her blue jeans. Muds and dirty water stained her converse **_(I've noticed, all my heroines have converse . . . I think . . .)_**. She stumbled a couple of times, but continued. She had to get away.

_"Come back, Sweetheart,"_ a young man's voice called out of the darkness. She turned, looking into that darkness. The wind whipped the raindrops around her, obscurring her vision.

She turned and ran, hot tears burning down her face. She gave a few grunts as she fought her way through the storm. She could still her him, and he was getting closer.

_"The itsy bitsy loner ran through the storm tonight . . ."_ the man's voice sang, sickly.

She continued to run, until she slammed into a metal gate. She grunted in pain, as she looked at the thing, putting her fingers over the pieces of metal.

_"Come out and play, loner . . ."_

Gods, she could feel his breath in her ear! His hands wound harshly around her stomach, bringing her backside against him, and the bulge which signalled his arousal. _"I've got you now . . ."_

She struggled against him, pushing him away from her. "Get away!" she cried. "Leave me alone!" She kicked him, causing him to cry out and fall back, while she began to pull against the fence. It wouldn't budge. She felt along it, finding how the chains wrapped around the part in the gate. It was locked up tight.

She desperately wound her fingers against the gate, hoping to find an opening large enough for her to get through. She felt his hand on her ankle and screamed, kicking him in the face, and making him scream in pain. She got on her stomach, searching for an opening under the fence. She found one and scuttled under as quickly as she could. When she knew she was one the other side, she ran as fast as she could, anywhere. Tripping on stone steps, she scurried into the shelter of the porch of the manor, where the rain couldn't reach her.

She glanced behind her, out into the darkness, hearing the clanging of the gate and the chain against the iron, the sound of shoes against gravel, cloth against gravel . . .

He'd found the opening under the gate.

She turned, rushing to find the door, found it, turned. It was stuck. She screamed for someone to let her in, crying, begging. Oh, why wouldn't they let her in? This was life or death!

The knob suddenly turned, as she pounded the door open, rushing inside and slamming it in the young man's face. He screamed profanities at her, screaming for her to open the door. She barred it with a heavy object and stepped away.

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself to protect her from the cold. It was very cold in this place . . .

She took a few steps in, into the dark, yes, again, into the darkness. She could just make out a curling banister and stairs, leading up, up and away. There seemed to be a swirling pattern on the floor, spreading from the middle. The manor was Victorian-esk, but she saw no owner.

"Hello?" she called, "Is . . . Is anybody here?"

-

_"Hello? Is . . . Is anybody here?"_

Stinkie's head popped up as a voice echoed through the house. His mouth hung open in a small 'O', making half of his two large front teeth glimmer a slight yellow in the light produced by the lightning. His head turned swiftly to the door. "Someone's here!"

He flew through the door, leaving a light, smokey trail, as he flew through the house, searching for the owner of that voice. _'Da foyer,' _he thought, and headed for it.

He came to a sudden stop at the top of the stairs, noticing his brother had come as well. Stretch turned to him. "You heard it, too?" he asked, quietly. Stinkie nodded, floating closer.

Both looked down at the intruder.

It was soggy and wet, wearing a light blueish purple sweatjacket, jeans, and converse. The hood was up, but it brought it down. The two ghosts stared into the face of a 17 year old girl with long brown hair and wide, frightened eyes. They recoiled.

She seemed frightened and confused, and definately cold, from the way she shivered and clutched herself. Her clothes were ragged and worn out.

"What do we do?" Stinkie asked. Stretch continued to stare at the girl, while a plot formed at the back of his mind. A sinister plot, something even the Ghostly Trio wouldn't do. He mentally smirked at this, but decided he would try this plan out another time. For now, he would deal with this Fleshie a _different_ way.

Stretch brushed his thin arm against his brother's. "Go check outside."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because Elvis wants ta borrow some sugar," Stretch grumbled, sarcastically, "Why do ya think I want ya to check outside?"

Stinkie shrugged. Stretch sighed.

"She's runnin' from somethin'. Go check what."

Stinkie mumbled a little 'fine,' and floated towards the door, turning transparent so as not to get the girl's attention, and floated through the door. He came back a few seconds later. "Some mutt outside, probably was tryin' to rape her." he reported.

Stretch crossed his arms, gazing down at the girl, eyes narrowing. "I thought so," he said. "Stinkie, deal wit 'im." Stinkie saluted and flew away. "Listen you," Stretch called down. The girl turned, staring into the darkness with wide, frightened eyes.

"Are . . ." she began, "Are you the landlord or the owner of the house?"

"Of a sorts," Stretch said, quietly, but still loud enough for her to hear. "Listen, who do ya think you are, barging into our home like dat?"

The girl seemed to recoil at his harsh tone. "I'm . . . I'm sorry, sir, but . . . it's just that, this man--"

"I know, it's being taken care of," Stretch replied.

-

The man banged his entire body against the door, cursing that girl. How dare she deny him like that! And not only deny him—oh, no—she _defied_ him and responded in 'self-defense'.

And thus, he continued his vain attempts to get into the large manor.

Stinkie melted through the wall, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at this man. Hmph. Scum. Not worthy enough to lick the dirt off his sheets. However, he smirked, creeping up behind him, and sending out a small puff of his horrendous odor. The man continued to pound the door, oblivious to the attack on his sense of smell. By the time he realised it, it was too late. He fainted from the odor, and Stinkie gave a small chortle as he floated down by him.

The man shook his head, trying to regain consciousness. But, as he looked up, Stinkie morphed into a horrible ghoul, with large, bloodshot yellow eyes, sharp green teeth, and a forked tongue, as his head grew larger to give an added effect. He growled menacingly, making the man shit his pants and scream, running off.

As Stinkie morphed back, he burst into laughter and melt away, back through the door, immediately becoming invisible as he floated past the girl and towards Stretch, also invisible, at the top of the staircase.

Stinkie saluted. Stretch patted his brother's back. Both looked down on this girl, again. What to do with her?

"Look, girl," Stretch called down to her, "Dat man won't bother ya, so ya can leave." He didn't mean it, though. He _wanted_ this fleshie to stay, for reasons of his own. He couldn't let Stinkie know, though, no, not yet. He'd have to use reverse-psychology. Let this fleshie _think_ he wanted her to leave, and she'd stay. Yes, he predicted she'd stay. There was something about her, the way she looked, the way she acted, even what he sensed about her. Yes. She would stay.

The girl rubbed her arm, nervously glancing around her. She picked at a couple locks of her drenched mop of brown hair that rested on her head. "Uh, sir . . ." she started, nervously, "I . . . have no home . . . Because of what's happening, I can't stay in one place for long."

Stretch mentally frowned. He'd gotten the answer he'd expected—well, half of it, anyways. He didn't expect that she couldn't stay in one place for long. No, that wouldn't do. Suddenly, his cunning brain came up with an idea. He gave Stinkie a look that clearly said, 'She-doesn't-know-you're-here-so-don't-talk'. Stinkie gave his brother a nod, wondering just what he was up to. Nonetheless, he floated back a bit, giving his brother a bit more space.

"Then, you'll stay here," Stretch announced, a smug smirk set on his face. His lanky arms crossed matter-of-factly and he gave a small nod.

Lightning crackled and thunder boomed and echoed through the manor. The girl looked up into the darkness, startled. "Are you sure, sir?" she asked, "I don't want to be a bother to you!"

Stretch laughed. "Bother? Ya won't be a bother! So don't worry! Ya don't have anything else dat needs ta be packed or unpacked, do ya? Belongings?"

The girl shook her head. "This is all I have," she said, gesturing to the clothes on her back, soaked and dirty.

"Fine then!" Stretch said, "Then come up da stairs. Ya won't meet me in person just yet. We'll wait for da moment, okay?"

The girl nodded, starting towards the staircase. Another crackle of lightning broke through the sky, and the thunder echoed again. The girl shuddered, but pressed on. She neared the top of the stairs.

"Alright, continue down dis hall," Stretch said, from beside her, making her look straight through him, in confusion. "There should be more rooms. Go in da fourth one to yer right." She did so. Stinkie and Stretch followed, invisible.

The room was a good size, about the same size as Casper's had been, only a little larger. The large bed seemed cozy enough, and the view was incredible, if a bit disturbing due to the storm. The large window faced out towards the sea, which churned uneasily as the lightning and the winds sloshed the sea around. The rain pelted the window, creating a steady rhythm. Although a bit dark, and perhaps even a bit gloomy, it was warm and somewhat cozy.

"And what's yer name?" Stretch asked. The girl looked up, towards the open door.

"Christine," she said, "My name is Christine."

Stretch pushed Stinkie out of the room. "I'll go downstairs to da kitchen, it's easy ta find. Come down in a half hour for dinner. You'll meet me and my brother then." With that, he floated, invisibly, out of the room, leaving Christine to ponder over this stranger.

-

"What da hell was that about?" Stinkie asked his brother as they reached the kitchen, crossing his arms and becoming visible. Stretch became visible, going towards the refrigerator. "A fleshie is goin' ta live wit us? What is goin' on through yer head?"

Stretch tossed an empty beer can as his brother's head. "Ah shaddup!" he growled, irritated, "What's so wrong wit it? It's just a fleshie, we've dealt wit fleshies before."

"But we've never invited complete strangers into our house," Stinkie said. "It's not like you ta put up with fleshies like this, Stretch."

"Maybe it's time for a little change, Stinkie," Stretch said, smirking, before materializing through the wall, leaving Stinkie alone in the kitchen. Stinkie glared at his brother. Something was fishy. Stretch never acted like this before. What was it about this fleshie that changed him?

-

_**Alrighty, there's the first chapter. Sorry if it's not good. I was thinking of many different ideas for the plot, including and excluding Casper and the Harveys, and this is how it worked out, though I had to go and change the ghost's speech. Hopefully you liked it. I would like three reviews, more or less.**_

_**Next chapter: Christine meets the ghosts! Did you know I actually liked Stinkie when I watched Casper? And now old feelings are coming back. -sniffle- He's still my favorite of the Trio, the best ghost ever!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Kitsune: I'm back! Yay! These chapters may get shorter, because I want many chapters for this. But, who knows, maybe I won't have to shorten them. You never know, do you?**_

_**Sorry if the ghosts get a bit OOC, but I'm trying my best. It's very hard for me to keep people in character. I was actually surprised in the first chapter when they didn't scare her, myself. Sorry if I'm disappointing any of you, I love the Trio, and I'm trying my hardest.**_

_**Stretch: Obviously not hard enough. -hits her-**_

_**Kitsune: Ow!**_

_**Stinkie: Hey! Don't to dat to Kitsune!**_

_**Stretch: And why not?**_

_**Fatso: -eating-**_

_**Stinkie: Because!**_

_**Stretch: Are you stickin' up fer dat fleshie? Yer turnin' yer back on family!**_

_**Kitsune: ON WITH THE STORY!! -swirly eyes-**_

_**Stretch: What's wit her?**_

_**Stinkie: -shrug-**_

_**Kitsune: I still don't own Casper or the characters! But, I do own Christine!**_

-

**Ghost Lover**

**Summary: Nearly 50 years have passed at Whipstaff. The only remaining residents are two ghost brothers. But when a lonely living girl takes up residence there, she finds herself torn in two; while one brother seems to show concern for her, the other finds her a bit more appealing than normal. Rated M for rape, torture, and adult content, sorta.**

-

Christine sat on the bed, shifting slightly. She was scared. Was this such a good idea? Staying with people she didn't even know? Total strangers? What if she did something wrong, and they threw her out? Where would she go then? Would she be subject to that beast who'd chased her here? And, speaking of which, where was he? Was he still prowling around outside? The man had said he wouldn't bother her, but what if he came back?

She didn't want to think about that. Her stomach growled and she held it. It rumbled painfully, reminding her of how she hadn't eaten in days. She glanced at the clock. Time to go downstairs. She wandered through the hall, remembering the way she'd come and sniffed her way to the kitchen. Something was cooking. She skipped the last step, before she opened the door slowly. The kitchen was cozy enough, in the light, that is. At the moment, it was nearly pitch black, save for the candles that burned slowly on their metal holders on the table, giving off a dim yellow glow. The darkness and the lightning that flashed outside gave everything a gothic tone to it. It frightened her.

Christine clutched herself, gazing with wide eyes around the room. She called, softly, "Hello?" She took a step into the room. "I came like you said."

"Good," came the same voice, "We're in the room, now. It's time you see us fer who we are."

As Christine shivered, she saw a faint blue glow. Smoke rolled through the room, filling it. A wind blew, even though the windows were shut tight. Lightning flashed. She held her breath as the glow grew, dividing into two shapes, which took on humanlike forms.

There, before her, were two ghosts, see-though and giving off a blueish white tint. The taller one had a large nose, and violet eyes. He had thin lanky arms and his head came to a bit of a point, which sagged back, almost as if it were hair he'd once had.

The other was shorter, and a bit less thin than his brother. He had a wider face than the first ghost, a smaller, yet still a bit big, nose, and wide golden eyes. His two buck-teeth stuck out slightly from his parted lips, as he gazed in wonder at the teenager. He also had a thin frame, and his head came to a slight point, like his brother's.

Christine's eyes widened and she gasped in shock. She recoiled in fear. "You're . . . you're . . ."

"Dead? Yeh, we figured ye'd say dat," the thinner one said. His voice was nasally, sort of, and he had a Boston-style accent. "Yer lucky we're allowin' ya t'stay 'ere wit us!" The ghost floated closer, wagging a finger at her. In response, she backed up. "Fleshies like you're nuttin' but trouble." Here he crossed his arms. "But we're willin' t'make an exception on yer part."

"You'd do that for me?" Christine asked. "Why? You both are ghosts . . . shouldn't you be scaring me away or something?"

"'EY!" Stretch shouted, making the girl flinch and draw back in fear. "Are you complainin'? Thanks to us, you got a roof over yer head and one less creep to deal wit'. Unless you'd rather be out there in the cold, I suggest ya don't whine."

Christine hung her head, shuffling her feet. "Sorry,"

Stretch drew back, crossing his arms. "Now dat _dat's_ settled, my name is Stretch, and dis is my brother, Stinkie."

"Hi hi hi!" Stinkie waved. Christine waved back.

"So, uh, ya hungry?" Stretch asked. Suddenly, Christine growled, making both ghosts howl with laughter. "I'll take dat as a 'Yes'!" Stinkie floated over and pulled out a chair for her to sit on, then both ghosts flew to the other end of the table, waiting, expectantly.

The ghosts stared at the girl. The girl stared at the ghosts. It took a while, as the ghosts waited, for them to realise that they would have to serve themselves. They looked down in near shame as they hunched and floated towards the sink and the refrigerator. Stretch headed to the refrigerator, getting some different ingredients while Stinkie got the dishes. Christine offered to help, but Stinkie put up a hand.

"Don't worry, it's about time we did someting around this place," he said, somewhat glumly. He set out the plates while Stretch fixed something similar-looking to sausage, egg, and cheese sandwhiches. Stinkie glanced at the food, then gazed dully at his brother.

"Remind me never to eat anything you make again, okay?"

"Ya haven't even taken a bite, Stinkie!" Stretch growled in annoyance, "How do ya know it's no good before ya try it?"

Stinkie scrunched his face up. The two continued to bicker back and forth while Christine watched, helplessly. She took a bite of her sandwhich as Stretch was saying something along the lines of, "I used to be a professional chef when I was alive!" to which Stinkie replied, "If you call microwaves 'professional',"

Christine gasped in shock, making both ghosts turn their attention to her. Stretch's face took on a worried appearance. "Oh no, Stinkie was right! I poisoned da fleshie already!"

Christine shook her head. "No, I've never had something so good in such a long time! It's great!" Stinkie's jaw dropped, as Stretch smirked in his direction. Stinkie then glared in his brother's direction, huffing, and then turning away, abruptly.

It took a while for them to finish their meal, and when they had, the ghosts cleaned up, telling Christine to head back up to her room for the night. It was also a while before they found peace in their kitchen enough to talk without her knowledge. Stretch sat, hnched up in a chair, his head in his hands.

"I don't believe we fergot!" he near-whined.

Stinkie floated next to the refridgerator, opening it and grabbing the sour carton of milk that he'd saved, just to go bad, just for him. "Has it really been dat long since the Bulbhead left?"

"Stinkie, it must be," Stretch said, his violet gaze burning holes in the floor. "Ah, I'm goin' **nuts** in dis empty house!"

"We kept debating whether or not something would happen, Stretch," Stinkie said, taking a gulp of the rancid milk, making it go right through him and splash on the floor. "Maybe dis Christine is what we been waitin' for? Ya never know?"

"'Ey, Stink," Stretch said, softly.

Stinkie lifted his head, slightly. "What?"

"Dat fleshie . . . She . . she didn't look scared to you, did she . . ."

Stinkie looked down, shaking his head. Stretch sighed, floating towards the door. Part 1 of his evil scheme had already clicked in his mind. Now it was time to put it into action. "Stinkie."

"Yes, Stretch?"

"I'm goin' on a vacation," he said, "I want you to look after da house . . ."

"What? But Stretch, why ya goin'?" the smelly ghost exclaimed in shock. Stretch continued his somber tone.

"I jus' need time ta think, tha's all," the elder brother said, "So I want ya ta look after da house while I'm gone."

"But what about da fleshie--"

"Da fleshie can take care of 'erself," Stretch growled, violet eyes blaring. Stinkie swallowed. Stretch hardly ever got angry with him these days. Why was he now? "Take care of da **house**, dipshit. An' don't worry 'bout da fleshie, she knows that if she steps outta line, she'll have **_Hell_** ta pay. It's _our_ house." With that, he floated out of the house, out of Stinkie's life, it seemed . . .

Stinkie stared at the spot his brother had left through, buck teeth revealed with his slightly parted mouth. He closed it, eyes becoming frightened, like a lost child. He almost wanted to cry. "Why ya gotta do dat, Stretch?" he said, softly.

-

_**So, whatcha think? Sorry it was shorter. Had to bust this writer's block thing. Remember to review.**_

_**Next chapter: What harm could come out of friendship? Stinkie and Kelly become closer. But, one night, things change, and someone toys with Kelly's dreams, her feelings . . . and even her body . . .**_

_**Who is . . . her Ghost Lover?**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Kitsune: Hi, I'm back!**_

_**Ghosts: Us too!**_

**_Kitsune: (rolls eyes) Except for Casper and Fatso, who have _passed on**

_**Fatso and Casper: Aw, man . . . (floats away)**_

_**Kitsune: Sorry, guys. Now, on to the story.**_

_**WARNING: Things kinda get graphic from here on out. This is where the term "Spectral Rape" comes in. No, I'm not the owner of that term, I'm merely using it.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Christine. And the plot, of course.**_

_**Kitsune: By the way, the extra dashes during the sleeping scene indicate, if you don't notice, that the scene is changing from the dream to reality and back again.**_

-

**Ghost Lover**

**Summary: Nearly 50 years have passed at Whipstaff. The only remaining residents are two ghost brothers. But when a lonely living girl takes up residence there, she finds herself torn in two; while one brother seems to show concern for her, the other finds her a bit more appealing than normal. Rated M for rape, torture, and adult content, sorta.**

-

Stinkie floated up to Christine's bedroom, looking in. Contrary to his thoughts, she wasn't asleep; she sat up on the bed, gazing out the window. Her expression was sort of somber. Stinkie rubbed his arms; he kinda pitied this fleshie. All alone in the world with a bunch of creeps after her.

He floated in, knocking his semi-transparaent fist against the doorframe. Christine turned, putting on a soft smile. "Oh, hello . . . Stinkie, was it?"

The ghost nodded.

"May I . . . come in?" he asked. Christine nodded, patting a spot next to her. Stinkie floated over. "Why so glum? Ya got a roof over yer head an' a warm meal in yer stomach."

Christine sighed. "Yeah, and I thank you for it, really. But . . ." She glanced out the window. "I feel like . . . I'm a nuisance."

"Yer not a nuisance," Stinkie said, "Ol' Stretch is always like dat. Take it from me." He glanced to the side, and added, softly, "We've always been dat way."

"So, what's wrong?" the fleshie asked, "You guys seem like you've just gotten back from a funerla, pardon the pun."

Stinkie waved his hand, dismissively. "Don't sweat it, s'no big deal. S'jus' . . . y'see, I was da youngest of three brothers. Dere was Stretch, who was oldest, Fatso, who was da middle child, an' den me. An' . . . an' we all died on da same night. We had dis nephew who died, too. His name was Casper.

"Before, we all lived here, an' we picked on Casper all da time, cuz he wasn't like us. He was . . . friendly. And dere were these fleshies who came along an' lived wit us. Dere was da Doc, Harvey, an' his daughter, Kat. Kat an' Casper really got along, an' dey were inseperable. Casper, y'see, had his affections towards her, but den she went off ta college, got married, an' moved out; Doc moved out after. An' den Casper passed on, to da other world, because he felt so happy wit Kat that he had no more unfinished business.

"An' Fatso . . . we're still not sure how, but he passed on, after Casper." Stinkie finished. He looked down, solemnly at his semi-transparent hands. "Stretch's all I got left. I don't wanna pass on, yet, an' I don't want 'im to pass on, either."

Christine put a hand on the ghost's back, flinching away when the cold bit her, then replacing it.

Stinkie looked at her. "So, what's yer story?"

Christine took a breath and released it. "I grew up in an abusive family. My father wound up killing my mother and almost raped me when I was 14, so I ran away. I found out a while ago, my father killed himself."

Stinkie flinched, slightly, but continued to listen to her.

"I was with a friend of mine, who took care of me, but then they just . . . threw me away, cast me aside like an old toy . . . out into the cold . . . That was just a day or two ago. I wandered around the streets, and then there was this gang . . ." She shuddered and turned away.

"Go on," Stinkie said.

"They pulled me into the alley, and told me to take off my clothes," By now, tears were beginning to stream down her face, "Their leader . . . he wouldn't stop touching me. I screamed for him to leave me alone. I kicked him and beat up the rest, and then I ran. I screamed and screamed for someone to help, but nobody would. And he kept on following me, until I got here. He was gonna rape me."

She sighed. "It's just . . . like the world . . ."

_"Doesn't care for you anymore,"_ they both said, in unison, then looked at each other and smiled. Stinkie put a hand over hers, and she shivered, slightly.

"I tell ya what," the smelly ghost said, "I'll be yer friend, ya got it? I won't let ya take crap from no-one. If anyone tries ta even steal a glance, they'll have a new definition of the word _halitosis_."

Christine giggled, slightly. "Thanks." _'That's probably the first time anyone's ever stood up for me . . . I'll never forget this.'_ she thought.

"Awright, get ta sleep, you'll need it," Stinkie instructed, "I bet ya haven't even gotten a wink of sleep since that day, have ya?"

Christine shook her head. Stinkie floated towards the wall. "If ya need me, I'm down da hall, okay?"

"What about Stretch?" Christine asked, curiously.

"Aw, he left; said he needed a vacation," Stinkie said, growing more and more solemn. He gazed down at the floor. He then looked up, smiled, softly, and left. "G'night." He floated through the wall.

Christine stared at the spot where he'd last been until her eyes grew heavy. She slowly settled under the covers until sleep claimed her under it's dark, deep charms.

-

In silence, he waited. Waited for the clock to strike twelve, when Stinkie usually fell asleep. He waited, and watched as the smelly ghost drifted across the hall from the girl's room. The ghost didn't so much as detect his presence, and passed by. Still, he waited.

He watched Stinkie climb into bed, pull the covers around him, and stare, softly, at where his brothers' beds. Sighing, the ghost with the halitosis breath sank down into the covers, letting his dark eyelids close. Stinkie didn't so much as snore in his sleep, however, he had to keep his mouth slightly open because of his two, large, buck teeth, which poked between his lips.

The clock chimed twelve, and once more, thirteen, before he made his move. Slowly, he crept into the girl's room, watched the peaceful expression on her face as she slept. She truly was beautiful, he mused to himself, and that made him want her even more. Slowly, he crept over, allowing the world to go dark around him as he invaded her dreams.

-

A dreamscape lay before her; of sunset pinks and purples, golds and oranges, while lavender cotton candy clouds drifted overhead. The river was golden, twinkling and bright. Strange trees with purple leaves and twisted trunks grew green and gold fruits. Small woodland animals, or so they seemed, scurried here and there.

She, herself, was dressed in merely her nightgown, only, it was more frilly with lace around the neckline, and straps to secure it on her shoulders. Her hair was curled into a bun with a long, snakelike tendril winding down from it's center. Her feet were bare, and the blue-green grass was soft under them.

She stretched out under a tree, shaded from the orange sun, high in the sky; so high, she couldn't see it, but it somehow gave her comfort. Some of the greatest things in the world were those one couldn't see, were they not?

She could hear the birds' songs; chirping lively tunes that danced on the silver wind. She could hear the river running, so softly, bearly able to be heard; but she did. And she heard footsteps; soft footsteps on the grass, heading towards her. They signalled a confident stride.

Someone entered her dream, although, she wouldn't have known that. For don't all mortals not know when they are dreaming? They believe it to be a reality. In a dream, _anything_ was possible.

The man appeared. Ah yes, the man. She knew him. He was so familiar, but so mysterious. So incredibly handsome, too. He walked over, his bangs shadowed his eyes, sitting down beside her, leaning over, and whispering love into her ear. Meanwhile, warm hands carressed her, and she giggled, for this was someone she loved. She wanted this. She would allow him to come near.

-

Meanwhile, the hands that carressed her were not warm at all. A freezing cold body wrapped itself around her, indulging itself in her gentle curves, tangling cold fingers into her hair. He tilted her chin up with a finger,

-

gazing into her eyes. She could now see his own eyes. They were blue. A darker shade of blue. Almost violet. A beautiful color, they were.

His lips grazed against hers, and she

-

shuddered from the touch, unconsciously. A hand reached up to

-

wind around the back of his head, brushing his long dark hair, and to bring his lips closer. They were merely millimeters away.

_"You're exquisite,"_ the stranger breathed onto her.

"You flatter me," she replied, before his lips captured hers.

It was a soft kiss, soft and gentle, one of true love. She was with her true love.

One of his hands slid down across her stomach

-

making goosebumps form there. How could she not know how cold it was? His carress was a lie. His body was cold. His lips were hungry for _more_.

-

"Please," she whispered, taking ahold of his hand, so warm and gentle. She wanted that gentle touch elsewhere. Her thin fingers wrapped around his arm, and she lead it, until he softly grasped the bottom of her gown, letting his hand creep along with it. He gently began to lift it,

-

letting his eyes scan over her naked form once he'd gotten it off her with her unconscious help. He smirked, lecherously. He reached

-

to take his own clothes off. He then pressed his warm

-

cold

-

body to hers. She hissed at the sensation. It was like fire licking across her flesh, making all the areas tingle where

-

the gooseflesh had risen. He reached and softly stroked her breast

-

and she arched her back to lean into his touch.

-

He smirked, seeing her inviting him into forbidden territory. Take it slow, he told himself, build her trust, and take what you want when you need to.

-

_"Come, let us lay together,"_ the man said, in a charming voice. Christine couldn't help but nod her head and respond warmly. She didn't even know she was being seduced.

Slowly, he began to pull her on top of him, laying down in the grass, beneathe the shade of the trees. She tentatively straddled his waist, awaiting his reactions. All she could see was that caring face, so soft and gentle. She just felt like melting; melting in his embrace.

A flick of his wrist and she was writhing, fire licking over her skin. His hands were roaming over her body, seeking all the places where he could cause her pleasure, the places where forbidden fruit grew, waiting to be eaten. Oh, how she'd dreamt of being devoured by his hungry gaze, that hungry, sensual gaze that pierced her.

Just when

-

his hands

-

dipped past her navel

-

down to the forbidden place, where they briefly brushed the pearly gates,

-

a wave of cold washed over her, and the world around her grew dim. The man was no longer there. The dreamscape grew grey and depressing.

-

He recoiled. How could she be reacting to his touch? Was that area down there _that_ sensitive? Only a few more seconds and he could have had her where he wanted her. He let her be taken in by his dream charms, indulging himself in the sexuality of the situation.

He withdrew, disappearing once more. He'd arise another time. It was too risky right now.

But, then again, this could all be played out nicely, if he could be patient. Yes, he would be patient. Let her get used to the strange dream man, and then take her. It was too good a plan.

For tonight, he would leave her to lay alone.

Tomorrow night, he would strike again.

Next time, he'd go a bit . . .

Further.

-

_**Kitsune: See? Not too graphic, but graphic enough.**_

_**Stinkie: Just how graphic is graphic enough?**_

_**Kitsune: I dunno. Please review!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Kitsune: Wow, I don't even remember. Have I gotten more reviews?**_

_**Stretch: Would ya be updatin' if ya didn't?**_

_**Stinkie: Yer datin', Kitsune? Whassat gotta do wit da story?**_

_**Stretch: UPdatin', moron! Sheesh!**_

_**Stinkie: Oh, sorry, I dun heard wrong, den. (meek grin)**_

_**Kitsune: Brothers are so strange . . .**_

_**Aaron: Tell me about it.**_

_**Nick: Shut up, idiot!**_

_**Aaron: Make me!**_

_**Nick: Why you . . . ! (they fight)**_

_**Kitsune: (sweatdrop) Can we get on with the fanfic yet?**_

_**Stretch: Jus' start it witout dem.**_

_**Kitsune: A'ight. Please review. It's weird talking like you, Stretch.**_

_**Stretch: Then don't!**_

_**Stinkie: (holding up a sign that says, 'Will haunt for reviews.')**_

-

**Ghost Lover**

**Summary:**** Nearly 50 years have passed at Whipstaff. The only remaining residents are two ghost brothers. But when a lonely living girl takes up residence there, she finds herself torn in two; while one brother seems to show concern for her, the other finds her a bit more appealing than normal. Rated M for rape, torture, and adult content, sorta.**

-

Christine woke, blinking open sleepy lids and sitting up in bed. She stretched her arms out and rubbed her eyes. She had the vague sense that she was having a good dream, but she couldn't remember any details. She shivered, suddenly. Why was she so cold? She had at least three blankets around her. Maybe it was just the mornings . . .

She turned and climbed out of bed, going to grab a brush on a vanity on the other side of the room. She sat and brushed out her hair, wincing as the knots pulled at her head. She suddenly heard a metallic groan and turned to look at the door. Stinkie had it open and was holding a scrub brush and a towel.

"I, uh, warmed up da bath fer yas." He grinned, gesturing to the towel. "Took a bit o'work, but I got it goin'."

Christine smiled, meekly. "Thanks, Stinkie. I think that's just what I need." She stood, going over to him. He met her halfway and handed her the objects, then led her out of the room and to the bathroom.

She smiled and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Stinkie smiled and turned, drifting down the hall.

Christine glanced around the small bathroom before setting the towel on the floor in front of the tub. She undressed and climbed in, shutting the shower curtain. The spray was warm and she carefully washed with the soap and shampoo. Her body ached where the warm water touched her freezing cold skin, but it soon soothed her and she began to wash her hair, scrubbing furiously, then relaxing into a gentle, steady rhythm.

She shower spread warm water across her back. Things flashed in her mind, subtle impressions of something.

-

_Warm hands gently wrapped around her, drawing her into skin-to-skin contact with her love . . ._

_His hands slid down her sides, making the areas tingle . . ._

-

Gooseflesh suddenly arose and she shivered, involuntarily. She turned the spray off after rinsing her hair and stepped out of the shower. She wrapped the towel around herself and commenced to drying herself off.

-

Stinkie drifted to the kitchen, ready to make breakfast for him and his guest. He phazed through the door, looked up, and suddenly became startled. Stretch sat at the table, reading the paper. He didn't look up. "Hey, Stink." He flipped the page and read on.

"Stretch? What're ya doin' back here?" Stinkie asked, amazed.

Stretch sneered, still not looking at him. "I live here too, dipshit. Or did ya ferget about it?" He smirked, finally locking gazes with Stinkie. Stinkie shivered. There was something in his brother's eyes he didn't like. Something was there that shouldn't have been. But he decided not to mention it; it would probably only make Stretch angry. It was morning, after all, and Stretch was usually testy in the mornings.

"But I thought you was goin' on vacation?" Stinkie questioned. Stretch shrugged.

"I came back." Stretch stated, simply, looking back at his paper. He flipped the page again. "So, you an' da fleshie are gettin' along good?"

"Uh, I guess so . . ." Stinkie replied, rubbing his arm. He floated over to the refigerator, taking a swig of the racid milk before he got out some eggs for breakfast. "Eggs sound good t'ya?"

Stretch waved a hand, dismissively. Stinkie sighed, getting to work. After a few minutes, Christine came downstairs, dressed in a clean pair of clothes. One hand was shaking her wet, stringy hair out. She glanced at Stretch and waved, smiling. "You're back so soon? That must've been some vacation, then."

Stretch grunted. "It was alright." He glanced over at his brother, who wasn't having any luck with the stove. "Y'need help dere, Stinkie?"

Stinkie glanced back at his brother, and sighed in his mind. Stretch's eyes were back to normal. His tone wasn't as sarcastic as it had usually been. He nodded.

Christine stood. "Why don't I make breakfast today? I mean, it's the least I can do for what you've done for me already." Stretch nodded, and Stinkie looked at her.

"Awright 'den," Stinkie floated away from the stove with a shrug. Christine put on a sincere smile and walked over to the smelly ghost. With a little effort, she was able to get the dusty, deserted stove to work.

Stinkie crossed his arms, eyeing her but keeping a smug smile on his face. "Show off."

"You go sit down, I'll have breakfast ready in a little while." She set to work, and with little to no effort had a hot, steaming breakfast set in front of the three of them.

"Anythin' happen while I was gone?" Stretch asked through a bite of egg. Stinkie shook his head.

"Not really," the other ghost informed his brother. He glanced at Christine every few moments. She was meekly picking at her food; eating it, but not shoving it down her throat. Her eyes were downcast. Stinkie coughed once, trying to think of a good way to bring up a conversation. "So, uh, Christine . . ." The fleshie looked at him. "Have any dreams last night?"

Stretch's head slowly lifted from his paper to stare at his brother. His gaze was calm, but oddly cold. He shifted his gaze to Christine.

Christine glanced down at her food. "Well, sort of . . ."

"How do you 'sort of' have a dream?" Stretch sneered.

"Well, I know I had one . . . I just can't remember any details . . . It was a nice dream, though. I know _that_ much." Christine picked as another piece of egg left on her plate.

"How d'ya know if yer dream was any good if ya can't remember it?" Stinkie asked, incredulously.

Christine gave a whistful smile. "Well, when I woke up, I was in a good mood," she stated, matter-of-factly. "Couldn't have been a nightmare if I woke up without any trouble."

Stretch "stood" from the table, taking his paper with him. "I got work to do, so I'll leave you two to yer business." He gaze a farewell glare at Stinkie, who shuddered. However, before leaving, he gave a strange glance that only Stinkie seemed to notice. He seemed to look Christine up and down, like he was appraising her. However, he was out of there without a moment's notice.

Christine stood and took Stretch's plate, as well as her own, to the sink, then inquired Stinkie if he was finished. He pushed his plate toward her with a nod, his mind far from breakfast.

-

They hadn't heard from Stretch the rest of that day. Stinkie stayed in his room, pondering Stretch's mood. Christine also retired to her room. She sat on the bed, brushing out her hair while staring out at the sea. His mind seemed blank; she was trying to remember what kind of dream could have made her feel so good in the morning.

-

_Warm arms slid up hers, fingers drumming softly on her skin. Warm breath whispered words of love in her ear while he pulled her to him. She turned her head to the side, shyly, a girlish smile coming to her lips. His lips nipped her ear, wanting more, needing more, needing her. He needed her._

-

But again, she grew cold, goosebumps forming along her arms. She flinched from the sudden chill and glanced around the room, searching for the source. There were no windows open, and her door was shut. Where could it have been coming from? Again that strange feeling persisted; that warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach when that strange sense prodded her mind like a boy poking a dead carcass with a stick in curiosity. It was like someone was poking that stick at her mind, making her try to remember what had happened last night. But at the last moment when it seemed she would remember that wonderful dream, the sensation would leave her empty, confused, and unsatisfied. It was like it was teasing her; it made her want to know what happened, then take it away at the last minute, out of her reach.

She shrugged in resignation. She supposed that to know what had happened was to experience it again. She had to go to sleep that night and dream. But how would she know if it was the same dream? How did she know it would be a recurring dream? Would it come again?

"The only way is to find out, right?" she asked herself, snuggling into the covers and putting the brush on the side-table. She closed her eyes, levelled her breathing, and let herself succumb to the deep, dark sleep that kissed her brow.

-

_**Kitsune: Yay, chapter 4 is finished! THIS STUPID COMPUTER!!!**_

_**Stretch: What now?**_

_**Kitsune: You know the number keys at the top of the keyboard with the symbols?**_

_**Stretch: Yeah?**_

_**Kitsune: The three, four, and six don't work. I have to use the one at the side that you have to press Num Lock for. Although, that's no problem, seeing as I always have Num Lock on, but still . . .**_

_**Stretch: You complain too much.**_

_**Kitsune: Shut up, Twiggy.**_

_**Stretch: What did you call me?**_

_**Kitsune: Nothing. (cough cough) Lanky.**_

_**Stretch: Why you!! (attacks her)**_

_**Stinkie: Please review! (CRASH!) (wince) Stretch, what are you doing? No, put Kitsune down! Stretch don't! (SPLAAAAAAAAAAAASH!!!)**_

_**Kitsune: (offscreen) Help, I forgot how to swim!**_

_**Stretch: (offscreen) That's just too bad for you, then, ain't it?**_

_**Kitsune: Stinkie, help!**_

_**Stinkie: Be right there! Review, people!**_

_**Kitsune: STINKIE!**_

_**Stinkie: Coming! (flys off)**_


End file.
